


A Hero

by firing_maine_cannon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, theres kinda more characters but they're not even talked about hahaha, this is my first fic here and I wrote it quickly so it probably sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firing_maine_cannon/pseuds/firing_maine_cannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry guys," he paused gently at four seconds. "I'm really sorry.... Epsilon."</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Heroes don't exist. Not in Blood Gulch they didn't, and nowhere else he'd seen yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Important note!!
> 
> The person seen in this fic is based on a headcanon of mine, that [they are] not really who [they say they are] and is actually just mocking the others.  
> Or, WAS, until it went on a little too long and [they were] afraid to reveal the truth.
> 
> I kinda ruined it with the character tags agh whatever enjoy

His father would remind him, every single day, that he was important. That he'd go on to do great feats, change the world. That he'd be a hero.

His father was always a good liar.

He was already well into adulthood and yet he'd done nothing. Well, not true, he'd done bad things. Mistakes.

His biggest being signing up for war.

Not that he was a bad soldier, he excelled in physical strength, strategy, everything you'd expect from some sort of super soldier. And he almost was. But with his strong bite came his stronger bark, he couldn't restrain his own tongue.

Eventually it got him booted to a shithole known as "Blood Gulch". It was a nightmare there.

He was constantly surrounded by idiots. From the moment he'd entered the canyon, he'd been shot at(and missed) at least twelve times. From a sniper rifle. He didn't have hopes for his base and was yet still disappointed. A sex obsessed young guy(he should've been in college instead of praying to wake up to tits in his face) and an overly aggressive asshole. Who happened to be his leader.

So he played along. The shitstorm that was Blue Team was finally completed and everyone was pissed.

He wasn't just trying to fit in though. No, he was just trying to out-asshole the man who called himself Church. He mimicked them, insulted them, and played it off as being an idiot. No one was any the wiser. Because they were idiots.

And then Omega showed up.

The moment he knew the AI was camping in his head, his façade changed from humor to necessity. He couldn't be just himself, he couldn't handle the situation. And like hell he was gonna let some AI waltz in and snatch his body like some 50's alien. So he kept it all up. The entire little game rested on his shoulders and he was afraid to lose.

And when Omega left, he knew he'd gone too far.

He didn't mean to carry it all on like this. All he had wanted was to poke fun and make them all feel ridiculous. A dick move yes, but nothing compared to their friend being a lie. They had liked him. They treated him like shit but he knew the difference. He was finally one of them. But he wasn't at the same time. His smile, his laugh, his obsession with his best friend, those were their friend. The hollowed out shell of a man who was afraid of the truth, though, he was nothing.

And then the deal arrived.

No one could really predict an entire ship nearly crashing inches from your face. No one but him honestly. While he was nearly a ghost himself, they were still idiots who can't see a shadow right in front of them. But even he couldn't have predicted a screen flickering and revealing a familiar dark helmet, orange markings tenderly painted on by hand. Said hand gently lifted an envelope as if it'd scuttle off in fright otherwise. Much like any of us here, the ghostly identity considered.

And that helmet bobbed and weaved like a bee through rain, making certain he caught all of their ears.

"I'm sure you all are very ticked off at me, but I speak now to only one of you, who is likely even more ticked off. Y'see, I've got this file here, the thickest little thing I've seen in a long time," a small voice could be heard muttering in the pause, "and it's got a certain someone's name on it! I'd say who, but I'm sure if this is you, you know who you are." He didn't like this. His heart fluttered panickedly in his chest, wasps buzzing in his skull as he watched the small fidget of the helmet.

That prick was smirking at them. No, at HIM.

"Which is why I've brought you this lovely little ship. I've been planning on copying these files for a while now, but we all know how they get into different hands than the owner's." Was he...? "So come take it yourself."

.....

THAT FUCKING COCKBITE.

The mercenary laughed to himself as the video and audio spasmed, revealing a countdown. The ship's bay door lowered as seconds counted off.

His eyes flickered around. His mind had become a Limbo, no longer him nor his play. He was only someone who had 15 seconds to decide.

One the one hand, he could stay. Wait and watch, the merc wouldn't go through with that. Of course not. They'd stay here as friends. Always. They could always be together and live happily ever-

FUCK. He couldn't bar a soft growl escaping his throat, drawing the eyes of his neighboring freelancers. He didn't want this. He didn't want to choose because he never chose right. Even from the very beginning he had failed. He was a joke, a comic relief, nothing could ever be the right choice.

If he couldn't ever be right, why not be the wrongest as possible? After all, two wrongs do make a right.

He barely felt the ground beneath his feet as he stepped forward. Thirteen seconds. His luck had been tainted, that was why he was here. He could hear his friend's hearts pounding as their lungs froze in their chests, every single eye on him. But he couldn't see them. All he saw was the number. Seven. He was lucky to be alive.

"Caboose?!" A symphony of every emotion he was feeling, synchronizing with the voices behind him.

"I'm sorry guys," he paused gently at four seconds. "I'm really sorry.... Epsilon." He heard the sputtering glitch run through the AI, a perfect sound of heartbreak. He hadn't known, it wasn't possible. Epsilon was Church to everyone.

"..... Caboose?" Barely a whisper, but enough to make his head pound. He hadn't planned anything, but the AI's tone almost made him think it was Church. Bile rose as he turned to look at them. One second. It was time they knew.

"But I can't keep going like this." His throat had been shredded in pieces from his performance, and as he let go of "Caboose" his pitch dropped like a corpse. Had the AI had a visible face, he may have felt guilty at the expression he would've witnessed.

Air whipped around his helmet, so strong it nearly blasted it away. The sudden burst collided with the others, momentarily blinding them as he rocketed against the force. Just as he leapt into the cockpit, he heard the shrill call of Epsilon. Oh yeah, AI can't be blinded. Whoops.

Hearing the desperation, though, that brought him back. Remembering when he had people who knew him, who believed in him. He could laugh at it.

His father had always thought that he was important.

And he was. He changed things forever, did many things.

But Michael J Caboose was no hero, and he never would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments because this is my first fic here/my first finished fic in about a year!!


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